Face Into The Wind
by Minarya
Summary: The night was typical, the mission routine ... but it just might change everything ... OroroLogan
1. Blown Away

Face Into The Wind  
  
By Minarya  


  
RATING: PG-13  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters. Marvel does. Try not to go into shock.  
  
A/N: This is the second story in a series, following Silver Lining. This is movieverse, blended with comic elements. Storm has blue eyes, darn it! And many thanks to everyone for their feedback ... I can't tell you how encouraging it is! This is my first time taking a shot with action, so please go kindly with me ...  
  
  
_Your sad songs ring heaven   
Here's a call for you   
So don't let it fall into  
Your frail dreams of horror   
Life lies and shattered blows  
Calling out, you're famous ...  
  
- from Hermes Bird, by Remy Zero  
_  
  
We don't need you, Logan.  
  
Scott was focused on going through the preflight check from the pilot's seat, not sparing a glance behind him to see how his comment was being received. He was moving quickly, but as thoroughly as always, brow furrowed in concentration. Time was of the essence ... the Professor had obtained information on the activities of a growing mutant hate group, the Friends of Humanity. Unrest was brewing in a New York town, around an alleged business area, and Charles feared a riot would break out. He asked her and Scott to go quell any violence before it started, but Logan had insisted on coming along. Ororo suspected he was just itching for a little action.  
  
Aw, Cyke, you'd miss me if I wasn't here. Ororo shot him an exasperated look from the co-pilot's seat as she adjusted her headset. Logan merely flexed his hands in the tight leather gloves, and winked back at her.  
  
Satisfied everything was in order, Scott locked in his restraints and fired up the engines. But this isn't going to be some back room brawl, Logan. We're not going in, guns blazing. Hopefully all we'll need is a sudden windstorm from our resident weather goddess. She glanced at him sharply ... she hated when people called her that. He kept his eyes trained on the sky as he maneuvered the Blackbird higher, but he grinned tightly in apology, knowing she'd see it.  
  
Yeah, well, I'm sure you got it all under control, but just in case, I've got your back. His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she heard Logan unsheathe his claws for effect.  
  
Ororo admonished. She was smiling, as she knew Logan was just giving Scott a hard time, but she didn't need to take care of a riot inside the plane as well. Besides, she needed to focus, gather her energy. If she played this right, the others might not even need to leave the Blackbird.  
  
Sorry, She raised her eyebrows at that, mildly surprised at his quick acquiescence. But she wasn't about to push her luck.  
  
It was only a 20-minute flight, and thankfully the rest of it was spent in relatively comfortable silence. As she concentrated on gathering her power to her, walking that unsettling edge of holding it at bay while keeping it within her reach, Ororo idly wondered what Scott and Logan really thought of each other now. Something had shifted after Scott and Jean's wedding, but did Logan truly accept that Jean was off limits? Or did he simply enjoy pushing Scott's buttons from time to time?   
  
But the question that really gnawed at her ... the one she had not yet faced after that one, wonderful night on her balcony ... was he really ready to move on?  
  
Ororo, look at this. Scott's terse voice interrupted her thoughts. The Blackbird still hovered a good distance away, but with her own eyes she could see several fires lapping viciously at the night sky, and the sensors indicated more than a hundred people gathered on the suburban streets. By their movements, it appeared some of those people were unwilling participants.   
  
We're gonna need a lot more than a sudden thunderstorm, Logan had moved up behind her seat, his voice tight and controlled.  
  
Scott had found a small clearing in the nearby woods and was busy lowering the plane carefully even as he formulated their plan. OK, Storm, you worry about putting out the fires. Stay out of sight, if you can. I don't need you to become a target. Logan, we'll work on getting those civilians free. They seem to be gathered in those two areas. In full leader mode, Scott nodded his head at the screen as he locked down the Blackbird.  
  
The trio moved in silence to gather at the hatch. Waiting for it to lower, Ororo took a deep, steadying breath. Her vision grew a little hazy as she felt storm clouds quickly gathering above them, the rain forming, awaiting her command.  
  
With a soft thud, the door was open. Floating eerily to them through the heavy darkness of the trees were distant shouts, screams. Angry laughter. Scott looked at them both, giving a quick nod and checking his visor's settings before melting into the solemn woods.   
  
Ororo and Logan followed him down the steps in tense silence. Just before Logan disappeared into the night, he squeezed her shoulder. She met his dark, unreadable gaze briefly. Be careful, he muttered. The kind words startled her a little, but she merely nodded, attention focused on the skies.  
  
Then he too was gone. She cast one more look at the blackness that had swallowed them up, and she took to the skies.  
  
*****  
  
Ororo cleared the woods before they did, aided by her winds. Despite the fact that she knew what to expect, the scene still looked like something out of a nightmare ...  
  
She was no empath, but she didn't need to be one to feel the intense anger rolling off these men who were clogging the ordinary street. Lashing out at everything around them, they shattered car windows, store fronts ... a deli, an electronics store, a photography studio ... running red spray paint coated brick, glass, cement in hateful symbols and words. Ororo felt her stomach roll a little, and she closed her eyes briefly, bringing her emotions tightly under control.   
  
Immediately she set to work putting out the fires - three separate ones, thankfully all on one side of the street. She focused on keeping the drenching rain and snow away from the rioters, hoping to give Scott and Logan time to assess the hostage situation. For hostages they definitely were, she could see now. Owners of the businesses being set on fire, most likely ... or unlucky passers-by. And the FoH had weapons ... torches and firearms. Ororo blocked the ugly, anti-mutant chants from her mind as she worked swiftly.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Scott and Logan infiltrate the group as she worked on putting out the last, stubborn blaze. It was thrilling to see the teamwork they strove so hard for pay off as the two men worked effortlessly in tandem, feeding off each other's moves. Despite the rainstorm, no one had thought to look for an attack from above. Most of the mob hadn't noticed the X-Men's presence, and they were using it to their advantage. Scott kept his optic beams on minimal power, breaking up smaller groups of attackers as Logan whisked the freed hostages off the street.   
  
Once the fires were taken care of, Ororo turned her attention to her teammates. She had had to keep her winds at bay, lest she fan the fires, but now that danger had passed. She would have to expose her presence in order to help them, but they wouldn't be able to stay anonymous much longer, anyway, as Scott and Logan moved deeper into the throng. she murmured.  
  
She raised herself up on her air currents, moving behind Scott and Logan quickly to clean up what they left behind. Sweeping gusts rushed toward the pavement, launching FoH members off their feet, sending their weapons clattering away from them, rendered harmless. At the first blast of wind, Logan looked up at her, teeth bared and eyes dark, but his attention was ripped back to the chaos in front of them as he was forced to dodge a bullet. Ororo focused her attention back on the riot - things were escalating quickly. The bulk of the FoH remained despite their efforts, and now they were fully aware the X-Men were there.  
  
Ororo lost herself to the rhythm of the fight ... moving between offense and defense seamlessly. Now that Scott and Logan had all the hostages free, she added ice to her arsenal, sending the FoH tumbling and cursing to the ground. She didn't have time to check on her teammates, but the crowd appeared to be thinning. She smiled to herself. Soon, this would be over, and they could go home ...   
  
But then, in an instant, it all exploded. A crimson energy beam suddenly screamed past her. She turned to find Cyclops, and froze in mid-air. A new group had appeared out of nowhere, about 30 men, encircling the mob. But these people were military, or at least pretending to be, and they were wielding very large, powerful energy weapons. At her. Another beam narrowly missed her head and jolted her back into action.  
  
Ororo rode her winds swiftly down to street level, weaving in the air and trying to make herself less of a target. Subtlety be damned, she thought wryly, focusing her winds around her and redirecting them in force toward their attackers as she desperately searched for her teammates. Where did they go?   
  
Logan's shout through the communicator behind her ear made her flinch. Scott's down! Eight o'clock!  
  
Ororo swung her head to her left and behind her, spotting them taking shelter under the eaves of one of the buildings. Logan crouched in front of an apparently unconscious Scott, hiding him as best he could. Sending the most powerful wind blast she could manage toward their attackers, she raced over to them. She knew she was blowing their cover, but there was no choice.  
  
Get him on the plane, Logan growled, pushing Ororo behind him.  
  
Come with us! He couldn't hold off that many men, with weapons. Her mind spun, desperately trying to come up with another solution as she wrapped her arms under Scott's shoulders, securing him. Blood caked the back of his head and she could see burn marks across the exposed skin of his chest. Ororo averted her eyes.  
  
You need cover. Go! Logan bellowed.  
  
And even as she heard the renewed shouts of the men as they discovered their hiding place, she knew he was right. She went.   
  
Flying while carrying another person was tricky at best, especially when that person was a dead weight, but Ororo didn't have time to dwell on it. Her winds pushed them over the treetops as the noise of battle waged on behind her. The sounds of Logan's snarling ripped through her gut, and the clash of metal on metal almost made her dizzy. If he was using his claws, that meant he was fighting hand to hand.  
  
Ororo impatiently punched the code outside the Blackbird, the hatch seeming to take an eternity to open. She shifted Scott in her arms, half-carrying, half-dragging him on board when it finally did open. Her footsteps sounded tiny on the metal, her hearing dulled by the earlier fight.   
  
Murmuring what she hoped were comforting words to Scott, who was floating in and out of consciousness, she hastily wrapped gauze around his head and abdomen ... oh, Goddess, she hadn't noticed the bullet wound in his arm! ... no time, no time ... She strapped Scott securely onto the bed, silently willing Logan to come barreling onto the plane after them ... what was taking him so long?!   
  
Ororo raced back out to the edge of the woods, pausing to scan the woods desperately as she ripped the communicator off her belt and to her lips.   
  
she screamed into it.  
  
She strained her ears for a response, even though she knew she would be able to hear a whisper through the sensitive equipment.   
  
Unless he couldn't hear her.  
  
Damn it, Logan! Answer me! Fear was coloring her voice, but she couldn't help it. She could hardly hear anything coming from the battle area, and if Logan wasn't answering her ...  
  
She swallowed hard against that line of thought. She would have to go back to get him, that's all. He needed her help, because he was too preoccupied to even speak to her ...  
  
This time she raced through the woods, hoping against hope she still would run into him making a break for the plane, afraid she would miss him if she were flying. She couldn't hear anything outside of her own panicked breathing, made even louder in the oppressive darkness. But when she finally emerged from the trees, fury slammed through her.  
  
Logan apparently had been making his way toward the woods, but now he was nearly overwhelmed. Bleeding and burned, he was on one knee, lashing out at those who got too close, screaming curses and hurling insults. He had disarmed the ones closest to him, leaving them with only their taunts ... obviously they didn't comprehend how much danger they would be in once his healing factor allowed him to stand ... but Ororo could see more closing in on him quickly, weapons raised. Lifting off the ground once again, she dove toward his attackers, lightning dancing around her outstretched hand and fire burning in her eyes.  
  
What the fuck! One of the men spat even as the small group backed off a couple paces. She knew she made a formidable sight, surrounded by the power of the storm, and she was filled with righteous fury.   
  
She touched down in front of Logan, protecting him this time as the reinforcements arrived, their weapons now trained on her. Logan snarled her name from behind her, but there was no time to wonder why.  
  
Her mind raced over their options. The best she could do was buy Logan time to heal. If she turned to help him, she would be exposing both of them. If she took to the air, she'd be even more of a target, and leave him unprotected. She was holding the attackers back with her winds, but she was nearly exhausted herself, and she was running out of choices short of calling lightning down on their heads. And killing was not an option she would consider, though of course they had no way of knowing that.  
  
Suddenly, she sensed Logan stand up, just a few inches behind her, his harsh breath beating against the back of her neck.  
  
Don't touch me, Logan, she hissed, the lightning still coursing through her body.   
  
Then let's go, His voice sounded pained, and she fought the urge once again to release her lightning. As she and Logan started to back up toward the woods, she could hear police sirens approaching in the distance. Good - they would take care of the remaining FoH, most of whom had already started to disperse at the noise. Ororo noted that most of the men dressed in fatigues had left as well, apparently not willing to face local authorities.  
  
The distraction was all they needed. It was time to run.   
  
Releasing the pent-up lightning into the skies over their heads, she and Logan took off under the blinding flash. He was limping slightly, but seemed to be getting stronger with every step, putting distance between them and the shouting and sirens.   
  
Ororo could have reached out and touched the trees when she heard the scream of a laser blast, then felt Logan shove her to the ground. Her breath rushed out of her in a loud gasp with the impact, and she turned her head just in time to see him being thrown off of her and into the trunk of a thick oak. He fell with a sickening thud, a gaping wound in his chest.  
  
  
  
Her scream came out as more of a whisper as she fought to regain her breath. Ororo whirled around. Furious and frustrated, she faced their attacker, her lightning once again coursing through her veins and culminating on her fingertips, eager to be set free. She felt as if she were standing outside of herself ... as if every inch of her was on fire ...  
  
They stared at each other for a long, timeless moment. He was a nondescript man. Six feet tall, brown hair, brown eyes. He was older, in his 50s maybe, and his lips were twisted in a sneer. She knew that look. The lines in his face had been etched with years of hatred, and he felt superior, because he carried a weapon of destruction in his hands.  
  
You're a pretty one, he rasped, blatantly ogling her. They might not kill you. Least not right away.   
  
My death will not come at the hands of the likes of you, Ororo grated out, pouring every ounce of the goddess into her words. This must be a very stupid man, making such comments to a woman who commanded lightning.  
  
Come on, baby. You don't need this freak. He gestured toward Logan's still body with his energy weapon. She didn't blink. I can show you what a real man can do ... He licked his lips, waving his weapon at her as if he actually expected her to follow him.  
  
Logan moaned quietly, low and labored. The fury flared again inside her, and her instincts demanded she unleash her anger on this man.   
  
_This is your birthright, Ororo _... a nameless voice called from her soul ... _The power of life and death ... to power to avenge ... to put an end to hatred and violence and pain ...  
_  
For an endless moment she stood on the edge, watching his glittering, small eyes grow a little fearful through the electricity growing between them ... but at the last instant she released it into the ground instead of through his black heart, the explosion sending him hurtling high into the air. She didn't stop to see where, or how, he landed. It didn't matter. That was in the Goddess' hands now.   
  
she cried out, crouching by his side and skimming her hands over his wounds. Logan, please wake up! I do not think I can carry you. She sounded desperate, but she told the truth. She was running on adrenaline alone now. The police had arrived, she could hear, but some of the FoH were scattering. It was only a matter of time before someone found them, or found the Blackbird.  
  
'Ro ... he moaned again. She bit her lip. There was no choice.   
  
Tugging on his arm, she somehow managed to drag him to his feet. His heavy weight settled against her side, and her knees almost buckled beneath her ... Goddess, how much did he weigh?  
  
I need your help, Logan, she whispered fiercely as she moved them into the woods, agonizingly slow. Come on!  
  
He didn't answer her, but after a few steps she felt him take a little of his weight off of her. She wished she could scoop him up as she had Scott and take to the skies, but she really wasn't sure she could support him, and Goddess forbid she should drop him.  
  
After what seemed an eternity, the black hull of the Blackbird finally loomed before them. Ororo murmured a silent thanks that in her haste she had foolishly left the hatch open. Logan collapsed as soon as they limped inside and she removed her arm from his waist, but she had to leave him there.  
  
Two of the most important men in her life were lying unconscious and bleeding a few feet from her, and she couldn't help them. _Breathe, Ororo, focus, _she chanted in her mind ...   
  
She wouldn't clearly remember how she piloted the plane back. She was certified to fly it, certainly, but Scott didn't allow anyone to touch it while he was around.   
  
And he was always around.  
  
Except for this time ...


	2. Eye Of The Storm

Part Two  


  
  


*****  


  
  
It was as natural to her as breathing.   
  
It hadn't always been that way. At first, it had been nearly overwhelming, never giving her any peace. She couldn't quiet the constant vibrations that seemed to pulse through her body, that made her head ache and sapped her strength. Any attempts to fight it only made things worse.  
  
In time, and with great patience, she had learned to become more in tune with nature's call. She could still sense it, of course ... When she needed it, needed to call upon her powers, she merely plucked on the string in the back of her mind until its song consumed her once again. But it no longer had control of her.  
  
The price she had to pay for this discipline killed a part of her soul, she knew. Her vague childhood memories were filled with loud laughter and crocodile tears. She remembered being carefree and spontaneous, eager to experience all life had to offer. Now, lest she risk upsetting the balance of nature or hurting other people, she sacrificed those parts of herself. She cared, she loved, she yearned and she hurt like everyone else, but she did so quietly. Letting anyone or anything get too close meant she risked losing her finely honed control. As she almost had tonight ...   
  
Ororo knew most people believed her to be cold. The ice queen, she had heard more than once. It stung, even after all this time. It reminded her of what she could not have.  
  
Now, that careful control was threatening to leave her. She needed calm, quiet, to try to compose herself. Ororo trailed her fingers down the windowpane, following the path of gentle raindrops, feeling a little condensation gathering on the cold glass. Her entire body felt like a live wire, but she wasn't sure if the sudden shower was her doing. Grief and fear warred with the urge to lose herself amongst the dark clouds gathering above.   
  
The silence was thick in the library, broken only by the patter of the rain. Even the hallway outside was quiet, the children long since asleep, everyone else in the lower levels. This was one of the few rooms in the mansion Ororo could say she actually felt comfortable in, with the large windows and high ceilings. She curled up into the plush windowseat and hugged her legs to her chest, her back to the wall. She had changed into sweats after they returned, knowing the soft cotton would be forgiving to the bruises and scrapes.  
  
But it did nothing to ease the ache in her chest ...  
  
A soft step behind her caused Ororo to turn her head. Jean stood in silence, arms wrapped around herself and white lab coat pulled tight. A white coat marred by small splashes of something darker. She held Ororo's gaze for a long moment, and Ororo could see the tracks of her friend's tears.  
  
Jean had been pacing, her nerves shot, when the plane had landed. As soon as Scott had been injured, she had felt it. Ororo had a psychic bond of sorts with Jean as well, but nothing like what the telepath shared with her husband. Ororo had no doubt she felt his pain as surely as he did.  
  
In moments, Jean and Hank had raced onto the plane, taken aback slightly at Logan just lying on the floor, Scott on the bed, wrapped only in makeshift, hasty bandages. Ororo had kneeled once more beside Logan as the two doctors worked on Scott, feeling her heart constrict at the look of pain creasing his face. She took solace in the fact he already was healing.  
  
Soon, Jean and Hank had whisked Scott and Logan to the infirmary, leaving Ororo alone for a moment in the cavernous hanger, surrounded by echoes. She only had time to change in the dressing room before Charles had appeared to whisk her away as well, only she was sequestered in his office as he grilled her on what happened, and she let him probe her mind. Eventually, they would need to figure out who those people were, and who had supplied them with such means of destruction.   
  
But right then, Ororo felt numb. Charles' words washed over her as she nodded and murmured agreement, but she couldn't remember anything he had said.  
  
Logan would be fine, she repeated in her head when she finally left Charles' office. She knew, logically, he would be in better shape than she was in no time. But the image of his body covered in blood, his beautiful face twisted in pain, wouldn't leave her alone.  
  
And Scott ... Scott had no healing factor. He was not invulnerable, much as he pretended to be. Scott and Jean were the siblings she never had, and the thought of losing either one was unacceptable ...  
  
Jean moved toward her then, startling Ororo back to the present, and she stood to let the telepath take her place on the window seat. Ororo gathered her friend's long, dark red hair into her hands, smoothing the disheveled strands with slow strokes. Jean relaxed slightly into her ministrations, and took deep, steadying breaths.  
  
Is Hank down there now? Ororo kept her voice quiet and smooth. People had told her her voice had a calming effect, like water washing over rocks. Maybe it could help, when she could do nothing else.  
  
Jean's voice was soft and a little wobbly. She paused before picking up again, stronger this time. He will be fine. The burns across his chest will heal nicely. A bullet grazed his side. It ... looked worse than it was. Her hands ghosted over the blood stains on her coat. His head ... he was knocked unconscious, and Hank was worried about damage ... but it's only a mild concussion.  
  
Ororo let out a long breath, expelling the air she didn't realize she was holding. I am so relieved, Jean.  
  
A comfortable silence fell between them then. After a while, Jean reached up to still Ororo's hands. You didn't ask about Logan.  
  
Ororo swallowed, a little nervously. Whatever new thing had started to grow between her and Logan, she could barely grasp it, let alone discuss it with their friends and teammates. She knew Jean wouldn't have read her mind, but she was an expert at reading people, even without her mutant ability. She had probably known what was going on long before this mission, and Ororo's actions since merely confirmed her suspicions.  
  
Jean shifted in the seat to face Ororo, taking Ororo's hands in her own once again. I do not need to ask about him. Ororo kept her eyes focused on their clasped hands. I know he will be all right. He is probably out prowling the grounds as we speak. She tried a laugh, but winced as it came out as more of a gasp.  
  
Listen, Ororo. Jean waited until Ororo lifted her gaze. I don't want to pry here. But I saw your face when we were taking Scott and Logan out of the Blackbird. I heard your voice when you called ahead.  
  
I was worried about Scott. Truth was, Ororo didn't even remember making the call.  
  
Of course you were, honey. But he wasn't the only one you were worried about. Jean paused, as if mulling over her next words. And you didn't come to the infirmary after they were brought in.  
  
Ororo felt a blush crawl across her face, ashamed at her actions. Selfishness, was all it was. She told herself she could do nothing in there, they had no need of her, but the truth was she couldn't face what was going on. She didn't know how Jean handled it - wasn't sure she wanted to learn - but she couldn't bring herself to enter the stark, suffocating room. She had tried sitting on the floor of the hallway outside the infirmary, awaiting word, but the cold metal seemed to seep through her clothes and settle into her bones.   
  
The truth was, she ran away.  
  
I am so sorry, Jean. Ororo pulled away then, took a step back from her friend. I should have been there to support you, and Scott. You needed me, and I was not there.  
  
No, no, Ororo. Jean stood up, lay a hand on her shoulder. I wasn't admonishing you. Scott and I both know how much you care for us. You saved his life! It's just ... I know how you're feeling. The fact that Logan can heal himself doesn't mean he doesn't hurt. And it doesn't mean that you don't worry. That you don't fear for him.  
  
Ororo felt unfamiliar tears spring to her eyes at Jean's words, but she fought them back. She did fear for him! He took stupid risks, knowing he had that healing factor to fall back on. And who knew how strong that healing factor really was? There had been no need for him to throw himself in harm's way back there. A simple warning would have been all she needed.  
  
I think he'd like to see you, Ororo.  
  
Is he still down there? Ororo was shocked to hear her voice sound so small.  
  
Yes. He's all right, Jean quickly added as Ororo glanced at her sharply. But he's still asleep.  
  
Ororo nodded. She had to come to terms with this somehow. Next time, the injuries could be deeper than superficial. Ever since childhood, ever since her mother's dying face had been ingrained in her psyche, welded so tightly to her own sense of helplessness, there had been a line Ororo never let anyone cross. Her own pain was something she could control, but watching the pain of people she cared about ...  
  
But she was an X-Man. She had family, now. To love them meant letting them in, all of it. She didn't have the words to explain her fear to Jean, didn't even know if she could, but now was a time to show the strength they all said she had.  
  
I will go back down with you.   
  
Jean smiled. Good. Right after we swing by the kitchen for some coffee. It's been a long night.  
  
  
*****  
  
A/N: Sorry it's a little short - part 3 is coming up soon, and that will end this little story. But there will be more in this series, I promise! And thanks to everyone for the reviews ... and to Rhapsody and SkittleKicks, you guys are kinda scaring me! LOL


	3. Shifting Winds

  


Part Three  


  
  


*****  


  
  
Logan woke up. Hungry. He felt as if a truck had hit him, but whatever _had_ happened to him, he was whole. And starved ... which years of experience told him his healing factor had been working overtime.  
  
He opened his eyes, and instantly regretted it. Damn lights ... he growled, and suddenly his senses came back to him in a disorienting rush ... the sharp scent of alcohol ... the screeching sound of metal instruments scraping against metal trays ... the stiffness of a hospital blanket under his fingers ... Logan sensed someone turn toward him. The instinct to go on the attack kicked in, but he resisted unsheathing his claws until he got his bearings.  
  
Aahhhh, Logan, welcome back to the land of the living. Hank. His broad, smiling face entered Logan's field of vision.  
  
'Lo, Hank. Logan levered himself into a sitting position, groaning softly at the stiffness in his back. What the hell happened?  
  
Hank lifted an eyebrow. You have no memory of what transpired this evening, my friend? Fascinating ...   
  
Logan chuckled and shook his head. Another minute or so and he'd be good as new. Not really. Sometimes it takes me awhile to catch up after using my healing factor. He looked down and saw blood-soaked bandages wrapped around his torso. Popping a single claw, Logan sliced through the gauze lightly, tossing the strips onto a metal tray beside the bed. He ran a hand over his chest absently, feeling the smooth skin. The hair was already starting to grow back over whatever wound had been there. Don't need those anymore. So tell me what -   
  
Hank had moved to the side to dispose of the gauze, and Logan's voice froze in his throat as he saw Scott lying on the table behind the doctor. He was still unconscious, head and abdomen also wrapped in gauze, an IV line invading his arm.  
  
_... screams ... grinding metal ... blinding wind ... gunshots ... red lights ... hysteria ... Scott grunting, falling ... cover ... protect ... run, run ... get down ... look out ... white eyes ... darkness ..._  
  
Logan heard himself snarl as the last few hours slammed through his consciousness with blinding speed. His eyes roved the infirmary for another bed, another body ... nothing. He closed his eyes against the strange sense of vertigo.   
  
Logan? Logan ... are you all right? Hank was shaking him gently. Much steadier now, Logan brushed him off and hopped off the bed, grabbing a gray, hooded sweatshirt that had been laid out at his feet and yanking it over his head. Yeah, I'm fine. Just rememberin'. He moved to Scott's bed, taking in all the details. The steady beeping of the monitors told him Scott's vitals were strong, and Hank's good mood told him nothing disastrous had happened this night. Still ...  
  
The doors slid open behind him, hissing softly. Jean's strong voice called out. You're awake! He turned, and the sight made him momentarily unsteady. There stood Ororo, all in one piece, clasping a thermos full of coffee, his nose told him. Jean circled around him to move to the other side of Scott's bed, busily checking every detail, but Logan couldn't turn his eyes away from Ororo's clear blue ones. She didn't move from just inside the doorway, a platinum vision in her gray sweatsuit - standard issue around Xavier's - and silver hair. He remembered the way she looked earlier tonight, landing in front of him with lightning jumping from her fingertips, the winds whipping tightly against her skin, worshiping their master. An avenging angel. He had been furious, that she would intentionally put herself in front of loaded weapons, even to help him ... He could survive if they opened fire. She would not.  
  
But she had prevailed. And now she stood there, looking so very human. Her eyes were tired, her hair was pulled back hastily, and some dried blood still stained her hands. Probably his.  
  
Logan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. This had been nothing. A minor skirmish - though those new recruits they encountered tonight couldn't be a good thing. He was fine, she was fine, and Scooter would be fine. Even made sure all the civilians were safe, if he remembered correctly.   
  
But the stark relief that had sent his heart racing when she walked in disturbed him more than anything else that had happened tonight. This could have gone down real bad, and the fact that she was standing there, whole, in front of him, didn't change that. Could he risk having feelings for someone who put her life on the line at the drop of a hat? Who didn't blink at facing throngs of brutal men who hated her simply because she existed?  
  
Ororo's soft voice broke into his thoughts. She extended her hands in Hank's direction, smiling briefly at Logan before moving toward the doctor. We come bearing coffee.  
  
A most gracious gift, my dear Ororo. Hank accepted the thermos with a slight bow, and Ororo moved to stand next to Scott's bed. Logan turned to follow her movements, and they now stood side by side, arms brushing briefly. He resisted the urge to touch her, make sure she really was whole and unhurt.  
  
As Jean adjusted one of the monitors, Ororo ghosted the back of her hand across Scott's brow, moving a few stray strands of hair off his face. She sighed softly, pressing her fingers to her own lips then pressing them against Scott's briefly. Be well, my friend, she whispered. Logan could see her hand gripping the bedrail tightly, belying her calm demeanor.  
  
Jean glanced up at Ororo, throwing her a tight smile. Take off, Ororo, she murmured. Scott'll be just fine. I'll look out for him. Her gaze flickered to Logan, and she gave him the same smile. And take this guy with you. You both need to rest. Ororo opened her mouth to protest, but Jean lifted a hand to stop her words. I'll call you if we need you. I promise.  
  
And with that, they were suddenly alone.  
  
He fell in step with her, both moving in silence out of the bowels of the mansion and out into the night air, her sneakers making soft, squeaky sounds on the metal. She kept her gaze focused in front of her, and for the moment Logan let it go. He needed to escape the sterile, unsettling feel of the infirmary, and he was pretty sure it was getting to her, too.  
  
But Logan realized something was really wrong as they settled onto the steps of the front porch, and he felt her shiver beside him as their knees touched. She didn't normally get chilled, and it was a mild, early winter night. It must have rained at some point, as he saw tiny drops occasionally fall from the roof above them. Ororo leaned forward to rest her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins. Logan winced as her sweatshirt rode up, exposing an ugly scratch along her back. He traced a finger along it lightly. She didn't move.  
  
You really OK, He kept his voice at a whisper, not disturbing the night.  
  
I am fine. Ororo dropped a hand to clasp his tightly, pulling it into her lap and wrapping her other hand around it as well, hiding it from his view. But are you?  
  
Logan stared at the side of her face, her eyes gazing across the mansion grounds. No damage, darlin'. Promise.  
  
She nodded, and they sat in silence awhile longer, lost in their thoughts. It was late, and the darkness was almost unnerving. It always felt deeper, heavier, those few hours before the sun started to creep over the horizon. The silent thickness seemed to press on him, mock him ... suddenly Ororo dropped her head and pressed her lips against the back of his hand. Across his knuckles. He resisted the urge to flinch. She had caught him off guard. 'Ro, what's goin' on?  
  
She turned shimmering blue eyes to his. Moonlight made them look like stars. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. You were moaning, Logan. They knew you would heal, and Scott needed their attention, so for a few minutes they left you alone. And I watched as your face contorted in pain, and your hands clenched. I tried to hold them, but your grip was too strong. Before my eyes, your wound was healing, but your blood was on my hands.  
  
Logan brought his free hand up to frame her face, tracing her delicate, high cheekbones, feeling her lips tremble against his fingers. 'Ro ...   
  
Why do you do that? Her voice was still quiet, but had grown more urgent. People care about you now. _I_ care about you. That night on my balcony ... I know we have not really spoken of it since, but it does not change the fact that I have come to care about you a great deal. And it is no longer all right for you to take pointless risks!  
  
Despite her emotion, he had to smile a little at her tone. She was bossy, his Ro. I was savin' your life, darlin'.  
  
No, you were not. She was getting angry now. You were assuming I could not take care of myself. A simple warning would have been more than enough. You did not need to throw yourself in harm's way like some sort of ... macho man.  
  
A macho man'?  
  
Ororo threw his hand back at him and glared. Well, what else would you call it?  
  
Logan ran a hand over his face in frustration, rubbing at his skin harshly. Look. It's who I am. You know that, Ro. Sorry if it bruised your ego, but I wouldn't'a played it any different. She continued to glare at him, only now her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. Anxiety rolled off her in waves. It's not a risk when I know I'm gonna walk away.  
  
She tilted her face into the moonlight, and he watched as the soft glow caught the highlights of her silvery hair, which was slowly working free of the loose ponytail at the nape of her neck and floating gently in the cool breeze. He knew that look. She was getting her emotions under control, and choosing her next words carefully. He felt a strange tightening in his gut.  
  
What if you can not walk away? Her lips barely moved, but he could clearly hear every word. What if I can not?  
  
Logan shifted on the wooden steps so he too was facing the grounds. He idly wished the sweatshirt had a pocket, and that that pocket had a cigar in it. Might've helped steady that strange, fluttery feeling that was creeping its way into his chest.   
  
I have been lucky, Logan, all my life. He shot her a look then, her words surprising him. He really didn't know much about her life before the X-Men - never asked, never offered. She had been an orphan, like a lot of them were, but he didn't know the circumstances. Watched her fight enough to know she had picked up most of her moves from the street. And he knew she had spent some time in Africa. Doing what, he had no idea. But he never had the impression luck had been on her side. I should have died, a hundred times over. But, for some reason, the Goddess watched over me. I think eventually, I came to believe I had some higher purpose. She turned her mesmerizing eyes to his again. Her voice seemed to weave a spell around them in the stillness. Charles gave me something to fight for, something that would give sacrificing my life meaning. I was in complete control of my destiny.  
  
Then suddenly, on a mission of no great importance, on a night of no great significance, I find myself staring into your unconscious face. Your eyes are closed, your hair is caked with mud, and blood is seeping through your uniform, all because some anonymous, petty man decided you were expendable. I knew you would be perfectly fine. But I was willing to throw away everything I believed in to see vengeance taken on the man who did this to you.  
  
Logan didn't know what had happened after he was blasted into unconsciousness. He understood all about her commitment to not killing, despite the fact that she held mass destruction at her fingertips. It had earned his respect, then his admiration ... he sometimes wished he had the same control of his impulses that she did.  
  
You didn't ... there wasn't any more trouble after I went down for the count, was there? he asked delicately.  
  
She bowed her head, and Logan held his breath. Oh, God, please don't let her say she had to kill to protect me ... she finally said. But I was tempted to burn that smirk off his insolent face. I actually stood there, and for a moment imagined what it would feel like to send my lightning through his body, stilling his heart forever. Her words ended with a shaky breath.  
  
Despite the fact Logan didn't have many specific memories, her words resonated in his head. Had another woman sat in the still of the night with him and said similar words? Had he said them? Pushed someone away, unable or unwilling to risk losing her to his violent life? But this time, with this woman, their paths were the same. Tonight had brought them to a crossroads, and a choice needed to be made ...  
  
Ororo, I know what your goin' through. Keep it simple. She was the poet in this little arrangement. It's disturbing, when you barrel through those boundaries you thought you'd never cross. When you realize someone else's life means more than your own ... Sudden realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Is that what your sayin', darlin'?  
  
Panic flashed across Ororo's face. she scoffed. Well, yes. Sort of. I do not know! She slapped her palms on the wooden step.   
  
Well, thanks. I think. He couldn't help teasing her, a little. For what's it's worth, I feel the same way.  
  
She eyed him suspiciously. What way?  
  
The same way you were just describin'. He flashed her a toothy grin.  
  
Oohhh, Logan, you are so infuriating! She growled at him. He kinda liked it. I am trying to be serious!  
  
Maybe that's the problem, here, Logan lay what he hoped was a calming hand on her arm. We don't live safe lives. You know that. But that doesn't mean you have to kill yourself over every choice you make out there. And it doesn't mean you can cut yourself off from emotion. Trust me, darlin', it only comes back to bite ya in the butt.  
  
She rewarded him with a slight grin. I just ... my life is built on control, Logan. Tonight, I felt it slipping. I can not act like an overprotective girlfriend every time we go on a mission!  
  
That mean you're my girlfriend now? He wiggled his eyebrows. Gettin' shot has its perks, I can tell ya that!  
  
Not funny.  
  
Look, you don't think Scott and Jeannie feel this way all the time? You think Jeannie wouldn't want to rip someone's mind apart for hurtin' Cyke? But they live with it.  
  
We are not Scott and Jean.  
  
That's for damn sure ...   
  
  
  
Wiping the smile off his face, Logan reached out to take her hands in his own this time. For what it's worth, darlin', you're not alone. Why I knocked you out of the way in the first place. Why I woke up in the infirmary and my first thought was to make sure you weren't lyin' on a hospital bed next to me. This is our life.  
  
Can _you_ live with that? She squeezed his hand, and he looked at her in confusion. A corner of her full lips started to quirk, just a little, and she cocked her head to the side. I mean, it might cramp your style, having someone worrying about you all the time, hurling lightning bolts at people who get mad at you. You do, after all, seem to make quite a lot of people angry ...   
  
He laughed loudly, and it felt good as it shattered the sense of isolation that had been building around them. He pulled at her hand until she scooted closer to him. He swung one bare foot up a couple steps, settling her between his legs and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed, nestling against his shoulder.   
  
I think I could get used to it, he murmured into her ear, finding the cinnamon scent of her beneath the dirt and sweat and blood from the battle earlier.  
  
Ororo was tracing one hand along his forearm slowly, sending shivers of pleasure up and down his spine. It will be dawn soon, she whispered after awhile.   
  
he agreed. And you need to sleep.  
  
So do you.   
  
Healin' factor, remember? I'm good.   
  
She twisted in his arms to wrap hers around his shoulders. He found himself fixated on the deep eyes that looked almost black in the gray, predawn light. Just stay with me, then.   
  
Ororo pressed her lips to his. Chastely, at first, offering a promise, but urgency lurked just beneath. Instantly Logan pressed his hand against her skull, holding her close as he turned his head slightly, deepening the gentle kiss. She caught his lower lip, drawing it between her teeth lightly as her hands pulled him closer. Logan darted his tongue out, tracing the curve of her mouth ... slow, languid, exploring ...  
  
Logan felt warmth coursing through his body ... her touch reminded him he was alive. She made him _feel_ alive. He needed her, just like this ... soft and strong and bossy and scared and vengeful and loving and shy and sexy ... And he wanted to make her feel just as alive. She sighed against his mouth, parting her lips, and he slipped inside, seeking more of her, before breaking apart for a moment.  
  
I'll do my best, darlin'.  
  
END  
  


*****  


  
A/N: Thank you guys for the wonderful feedback! Very encouraging ... And yes, this is the last chapter in this story, but I'm working on the next one in the series. I'm moving slowly on purpose, trying to make each story be a glimpse on their evolving relationship, so hopefully you'll bear with me!!! :)


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